Perfect Hell
by Ariesfire
Summary: What is Professor McGonagall's secret? What does it have to do with Tom Riddle? Why are Harry and Draco drawn to each other? What is Dumbledore scared to reveal and why will the two boys die? A little fic about potions, ancient magic and Harry/Draco.
1. Simple Actions

****

Chapter 1: Simple Actions

Minerva McGonagall looked out of her office window and watched the first years cross the lake. It's not fair on them. *God, what've I done* 

She watched, unseeingly, as a memory from a time long passed but not forgotten engulfed her_._

"C'mon Minnie. Look what I found!"

"A book Tom? You brought me all the way down here because of a **book**!"

"Read this," said Tom Riddle, ignoring her, "Instant Invisibility Charms, a Dimension Swapping spell – this is better than anything we've found yet."

"What's that?" asked Minerva, reading over Tom's shoulder.

"An Immortality Potion. Wow!"

They had worked on the potion in secret for months. It was very complex, but they weren't the two best students in the school for nothing. On the 22nd of December they finished.

"Ready Min?"

"This is serious Dark magic Tom. If we do this wrong we could die! If we do this right, we still don't know what it will do."

"Should I take that as a yes?"

"Of course."

Her eyes bright with determination, Minerva looked at the potion. Tentatively, she filled a glass and drank it. Tom followed in suit. 

The pain was unbearable; the Cruciatus Curse paled in comparison. It felt like serpents of fire and poison were running through her veins to every cell in her body. Her wrists magically opened, pouring blood. She was drawn to Tom by an ancient force. Their wrists met each other. She could feel his blood pouring into her, and her blood into him. Pain and pleasure became one in that suspended time. It stopped suddenly. The two youths fell down, exhausted.

Hours later, Tom raised his head and looked at Minerva. "You look like hell love."

A giggle escaped her throat, "you don't look much better."

"Want to test the potion?"

Still excited and powerful from the potion, Minerva met his eyes and silently accepted the challenge there. 

"How about we start with something small," she asked, "like Avada Kedavra?"

His only answer was a smile. Worry rose in Minerva as she uttered the fateful words. The green light hit Tom and he collapsed.

"Oh my god!" Minerva screamed.

As she leant over Tom's still body, she felt two strong arms grasp her shoulders.

"Fooled you," Tom whispered, then took her mouth in an easy kiss.

"What have I done?" Minerva whispered to herself. The unforeseen effects of the potion had been to create an undefeatable Dark wizard and sentence two innocent boys to death.

That wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was that even though he'd put a bounty on her head, even though he had killed thousands of people, even though he'd tried to kill her hero, Dumbledore, she still loved him. She loved Tom Riddle and the guilt was driving her mad. "And I'll only live for an eternity," she told herself, as she turned from the window.

Harry lay down on his four-poster, waiting for the rest of the boys in his dorm to fall asleep. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd slept, maybe back in fifth year? It didn't matter anyway.

He never slept anymore. Occasionally he would catnap but usually he was too wound up to rest. Not even Quidditch could send him to sleep. Every night he would walk around the school, as silent as the night. At least he didn't have to take his invisibility cloak out, being a prefect gave him an excuse if Filch caught him, though he tried to avoid people. Harry was sick of their fake smiles, their silent taunting, and their looks of barely smothered hate.

His classmates had been attacked at Hogesmeade by a large group of Death Eaters last year. The Death Eaters had terrified them, tortured a few and gave them a severed head to give to Dumbledore. They all expected him to be the Griffindor, be brave and fight the Death Eaters. All he did was stand there and stare at the Death Eaters like an idiot.

When the Daily Prophet found out, it was splashed over the front pages for at least a fortnight. The magical community's last hope turned out to be useless. He had received countless Howlers and rigged letters. He accepted them. He deserved them. After a while they didn't bother him anymore. Nothing bothered him anymore.

He pretended to care about Quidditch, to care about the House Cup, to care about failing or passing but he didn't care, he didn't care about anything anymore. That would have scared him if he could feel fear. All he wanted was to feel: to be happy, sad, angry - just something. Something other than this emptiness that filled his soul, leaving no room for anything else. 

Harry sighed deeply as he rolled over. He looked over his arms in the moonlight. They were crisscrossed with scars. All created at different times with different knives. He had given them to himself since that day. He used to make them when he was depressed or suicidal. Now, well, feeling pain is better than feeling nothing. It let him know he was alive. Pain was the only thing he felt now. 

His aunt and uncle had not been impressed with his new attitude over the summer and had tried to starve him out of it. It didn't matter. He only ate when someone reminded him to. His already slight build had become even skinnier.

Harry cocked his head to one side for a moment. Then he slipped out into the hallway once again.

Draco was standing alone in front of the fire in the Potions classroom, trying to breathe warmth into his freezing hands.

Suddenly he turned and bent over the simmering cauldron. "Three drops of concentrated salamander flame and one dried Lyrabell, picked at midnight on All Hallow's Eve," Draco muttered, with unnatural concentration. 

Draco then examined the potion with a bitter satisfaction. "Damn Voldemort. Damn Father." He had wanted to become a Death Eater. He had been proud of his father and had been happy to follow in his footsteps. This summer had changed all that.

Memories came rushing back to Draco like a tidal wave. Trying to escape their grasp, he stoked the fire once more and concentrated on the flames, wishing they could warm his cold heart.

Harry walked through the narrow hallway, lost deep in thought, "_I'll have to get Ginny to go over the Hawkeshead Formation with Colin and Cat. I hope Ron managed to spy on the Slytherin chasers. I don't like the idea of spying but Slytherins never play fair and Ron is nervous enough of his first game against them, without having to deal with blocking new strategies."_

Harry sighed. He hadn't wanted to be captain but he was the most experienced player and the team had refused to take no as an answer. 

Turning the corner, Harry noticed a muted light coming from behind one of the closed doors. Curious, Harry unlocked the door and peered in. Draco was standing in front of a simmering cauldron, a vial of some potion to his lips.

"Malfoy!" Harry said, reacting on instinct.

Draco spun around, shock and then elegant distaste registering on his face. "Potter. Is it a natural talent, or have you had to practice being where you're least wanted," Draco asked sarcastically.

Harry was about to reply when he saw the faint glittering of a vial being hidden by hands as pale as the snow. Using his seeker instincts, Harry grabbed it before Draco could react.

Draco's eyes blazed with rage. "Give me back the potion Potter!"  


Harry was tempted to take a step back at the hate and pure menace in Draco's voice. However, curiousity gave him courage. He lifted the vial to his face. "Asphodel, balzair, myriad, lyrabell and … something else. This is poison!"

"No, I didn't notice!" Draco remarked sarcastically. He paused, curious, "How do you know what's in it?"

"Two words: Snape and detention."

Draco laughed softly, "Figures."

"Why the _fuck_ were you trying to kill yourself?" Harry asked softly.

"None of your business Potter. What does it matter to you if I die?"

"Because I'll be the first suspect!"

"Bullshit! No one would believe you could make a potion as advanced as this. Besides you're not the only one who'd like to see me dead."

Harry paused for a moment. "Why do you want to commit suicide? I mean, of all the people I know, you would be the last I would think of doing something like that."

"You don't know me Potter."

"That's not an explanation."

"It's none of your business! Just give me back my poison and _sod off_!"

"No."

"Do you need me to repeat it in one-syllable words?"

"I'm not giving you the potion until you tell me why you want it!" 

"NO!"

"Yes."

Draco sighed deeply. "During the summer Voldemort refused to let me become a Death Eater and my father is going to disown me. Happy now?"

Harry saw the flickering of pain cross Draco's face during the explanation. It was there for only an instant but Harry would recognise that expression immediately, it was one of soul-deep pain. Harry had seen it so many times in his own reflection. He knew that there was much more to Draco's story than the boy had reluctantly told. He was sure that the Slytherin, who always seemed so emotionless, was dying slowly inside.

"No."

The word seemed so strong in the silence that surrounded the young boys.

"I upheld my end of the bargain, now it's your turn."

Harry smiled and kept the vial out of Draco's reach. 

"Don't go all Griffindor on me. Why should you care, you hate me," Draco explained, as though to a dim-witted child.

"I don't hate you."

It was hard to tell who was more shocked by the simple admission: Draco or the tabby cat resting on a chair in the far corner of the room. She had come in at the start of the argument, but had not deemed it wise to reveal her presence.

"What?" Draco asked, his carefully constructed mask replaced with disbelief.

"I don't hate you. I used to, but I grew up. I don't like you, but I don't want you to die."

Draco was stunned. He was prepared for hate, for anger, for humiliation. Instead he found compassion, honest and simple, and from his enemy no less. 

Draco looked at Harry, his usual sneer returning, "I didn't ask for your approval, _Potter_"

"I don't want another person's blood on my hands," explained Harry emotionlessly.

With that, he turned to leave. Draco attacked him from behind. Harry felt a pair of strong hands spin him around, and wrap themselves around his neck. Harry undid Draco's hands and pushed him onto the ground in one swift, smooth motion, leaving Draco lying on the cold stone floor. For a moment there was no sound except the heavy breathing of the two boys. Then Draco turned and looked at Harry quizzically. "How did you learn to fight like that?"

"The hard way."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning it was the easiest way to stop my uncle and cousin strangling me."

Draco searched Harry's gaze for boasting or deception but only found cruel truth. "I thought that stuff was just bullcrap from your fan club."

Harry winced at the words 'fan club'. "I wish. Though, it's really not that bad, unless one of them get drunk. Having Sirius as my godfather usually makes them think twice otherwise."

"Sirius Black is your godfather?"

"Yeah."

"God, he always scared the shit out of me," confessed Draco before he could stop himself.

"_Sirius_ scares _you_? God, this is priceless!"

"Sod off Potter."

Harry was laughing to hard to reply to that. Suddenly, Draco turned grave.

"Give me the potion."

Harry became as serious as Draco, "sure."

Harry threw the vial over Draco's head and into the fire, where it caused a small explosion.

"You fucking dickhead! That took me _weeks_ to do!"

"Your problem," Harry replied, his lips a grim line.

With a flick of his wand, Draco had the dungeon room clean. Then, with a hate-filled glare at Harry, Draco stormed out, his robes billowing dramatically behind him.

Harry looked around the desolate classroom. He turned and walked back to the Griffindor tower, somehow knowing Draco wouldn't attempt suicide again tonight.

Silently, he slipped through the common room and into his dorm. For the first time in many, many long months, Harry slept peacefully, dreaming of Draco.

In the Slytherin common room Draco stood in front of the fire, trying to warm his fingers, which had become painfully cold during the slow walk to his dorm. Cursing softly, Draco turned and, as quietly as the still night, crept into his dorm. 

He snuggled underneath the green blankets, vowing that Potter would pay. He soon surrendered to his fatigue and slept deeply, despite the fact that a certain raven-haired Griffindor kept invading his dreams.

Stretching luxuriously, the tabby jumped down from the seat and walked out of the classroom with feline grace. Professor McGonagall reached a decision and stalked determinedly up to the Headmaster's quarters. Trying to put her disheveled appearance back into order, she whispered, "Honeycomb crunch."

A very curious but barely awake Dumbledore was sitting in front of the bright fire. 

"Headmaster," Minerva composed herself before she could continue, "it is happening, The spell shall be fulfilled, and the two heirs will die." 


	2. Consequences

****

Chapter 2: No rest for the weary

"Harry, wake up you lazy sod."

Harry slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head groggily. Ron stalked back to his own bed, cursing under his breath.

"Weird," Harry muttered. He had slept peacefully all night. He glanced at his watch. "Shit!" As Harry changed and stuffed his book in his bag, as he tried to remember the dream he'd had the previous night. Suddenly, the image of Draco Malfoy came back to him. Harry groaned and let his head fall to his hands. Why? This is crazy! This is, well, good. It was scary, but for the first time in so long, too long, he felt alive.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry turned up even later than usual outside the much-hated Divination classroom. 

"There you are Harry! For a minute there I thought I might have to ask Sir Cadogan to look for you. Are you okay?" Ron asked, looking closely at Harry. "You look pale. Did you eat breakfast?"

"I had some chocolate frogs," Harry lied, "honestly Ron, you sound like Mione!"

Laughing, the two friends climbed up the stairs to the classroom.

All was not well in the Slytherin Dungeons. Draco, after waking up late, had been in a foul mood all morning. He had snapped at Crabbe and Goyle, bitch-slapped Pansy and thrown Blaise against a wall, without magic. 

The Slytherins had never seen Draco like this and decided to keep a safe distance away from him. Only Crabbe and Goyle, not comprehending Draco wanted time alone, were following him. Draco spun around, infuriated. "Fuck off!"

"B-but Draco, we always have breakfast together," stammered Crabbe. 

"Not _today_!" Draco yelled and stormed off.

Crabbe and Goyle looked after him, shocked. Draco never acted like this, what was wrong with him? 

"If I see Potter, I'll kill him,' Draco threatened under his breath. Six weeks of work gone up in smoke – literally.

"Order!" bellowed a balding middle-aged wizard.

Slowly, the room quietened down. They all looked expectantly towards the front of the secret hall.

"I open this meeting of the Order of Phoenix as relieving president," said the man, almost ritualistically. He continued in the same monotone, "if you have a matter that needs to be addressed, then turn your wand gold. Any discussion must remain until the end of the speech. Firstly, however, may I present the Headmaster of Hogwarts and founding member of the Order, Professor Albus Dumbledore."

"Thankyou Edward. I came here to reveal an urgent problem I have found. This problem involves Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy."

Gossip spread through the hall almost instantaneously. What does the Boy Who Lived have to do with the son of a prominent and influential Death Eater? Sirius Black and Remus Lupin leant forward in their chairs, eager to protect Harry.

"Quiet!" Sirius shouted, out of patience.

The entire hall fell silent. "Thank you. The problem is complex and I don't know all of the details. What I do know is that Harry Potter is Godric Griffindor's only living heir. Draco Malfoy is Salzaar Slytherin's heir, although not the only living one. I know that they must face Voldemort and they will die. I also know that their deaths, and only their deaths, can kill Voldemort. It cannot be stopped. It is Fate. 

I did not tell you this to alarm you. Just be prepared and offer your support to both boys when they need it. It is a heavy burden that Fate has chanced to give them. Farewell."

Dumbledore disapparated, leaving behind a shocked and bewildered audience. Sirius was fighting against tears, and gladly accepted the support of Remus' embrace.

Minerva McGonagall observed the reactions of the Order to the news. With a world-weary sigh, she turned on her heel and pushed past the heavy oak doors. Although the snow hit her face relentlessly on the long walk back to Hogwarts, Minerva didn't feel it. She was too lost in her thoughts … and her guilt.

****

"No Transfiguration today – yes!" yelled Ron happily.

"Ron, do you realise how bad this is? Invisibility Transfiguration could very well be in the N.E.W.T.s."

"We'll catch up later. Come on Nev."

As Ron walked off with his lover, Hermione huffed discontentedly. "No wonder they didn't do well in the O.W.L.s."

"They did okay Herm. Not everyone is as smart as you."

Hermione blushed prettily. Harry turned around and, sure enough, Justin Finch-Fletchey was walking towards them, grinning broadly. "Hi sweetheart. Hi Harry." 

"Hey Justin. I'm just going to go fly, okay?"

"Sure," Hermione said absently.

"Yes – free period!" Draco exclaimed.

He watched as his fellow Slytherins paired off. He grabbed his broom and ran to the Quidditch pitch. He hated flying when it was snowing, but anything had to be better than watching Goyle and Pansy make goo-goo eyes at each other.

Draco's bad mood intensified when he noticed that Harry was there too. Flying was Draco's escape; he didn't want the Griffindor anywhere near him. He watched as Harry looked down and flew to the spot right in front of Draco, using one of his more dangerous moves.

"I'll kill him," Draco whispered.

"Malfoy, we need to talk."

"No."

"Fine, " Harry shrugged, "I'll just tell McGonagall that you were trying to kill yourself with an illegal potion."

"What do you want?"

"Are you going to try and kill yourself again?'

"Well actually, I'm going to kill you first and _then_ myself."

"You're welcome to try."

"_So _not intimidating!"

Suddenly a gust of wind pushed the boys to the ground. Harry looked up at the sky, concern etched on his face. "A blizzard's coming. Here!"

Harry grabbed Draco's wrist and dragged him across to the broom shed. As Draco closed the doors, Harry leant over the small fireplace. "Incendio."

They sat silently in front of the fire, trying to dry their drenched clothes. They ignored each other's presence as they took off their robes, sweaters and shirts. Relieved of the soaking items, they started warming up quickly. Before they could continue their argument, they heard the scratching of the shed door.

"Quick, behind this cabinet!" Harry said urgently.

"Why?"

"We're alone in a broom shed with only our jeans on. I don't think either of us want that to get around school."

They crouched behind the cabinet and watched as Ron and Neville walked in, shivering.

"It's so _bloody_ cold."

"Ron, it was your idea to go for a walk by the lake!"

Harry's best friend grumbled under his breath as he tried to dry himself in front of the fire. He took off his robe and watched as Neville followed in suit. The wet material molded like a second skin to his muscled chest. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he remembered how Draco's chest had been like that.

"C'mere," Neville whispered.

Harry and Draco watched from their hiding place as Ron leant forward and kissed Neville thoroughly. Harry's cheeks became tinged with red as he watched the snog session. Fortunately, before any other clothes joined Ron and Neville's messy pile of robes and sweaters, Neville pulled away. "I think it stopped snowing."

"Damn," Ron whispered, placing a kiss on Neville's neck. 

Harry and Draco both breathed a sigh of relief a moment later as the door closed behind the lovers.

"One more minute of that and I would've been sick."

"At least they chose a private place to snog instead of in the hallways, _unlike _you and Blaise."

"He started it," Draco whined.

Harry barely registered the comment. He thought he was going to go crazy. Draco was standing in front of the fire, firelight licking at his pale body. The stubborn pose he created accentuated his fine curves, making him look like some Greek god. Desperate to stop staring at Draco, Harry's eyes scanned the room before settling on his watch. "Omigod! We have five minutes before the prefects' meeting."

Draco scooped up his clothes, disgust clear on his face at their uncomfortable dampness. "Harendio."

Harry did the same before they ran to their dorms and then the meeting.

Dumbledore was sitting in McGonagall's seat as the prefects filed into the small room. Hermione's pulse suddenly increased as she saw his somber expression.

"Is anyone hurt?" she asked.

Dumbledore gave her a reassuring smile, "No Miss Granger. I am simply filling in for Professor McGonagall. Please, be seated."

Despite Dumbledore's assurances, Hermione was worried. She hadn't seen him so serious and sad since the attack on Hogesmeade.

The meeting finished quickly. As they were leaving, Dumbledore asked Harry and Draco to stay behind for a moment. After a supporting glance at Harry, Hermione left.

Dumbledore looked at the two curious boys before him. They were so young, so innocent. It wasn't fair, this burden that fate had handed them. It was cruel that they had no choice in their future. He picked up two swords from the table.

"Harry, I'm sure you recognise this sword."

Harry stared at Dumbledore, open-mouthed. "Godric Griffindor's sword?"

"Yes. This other sword belonged to Salzaar Slytherin."

The boys looked at it. It was long and elegant. Around the hilt there was a cluster of small, dark emeralds in the shape of a snake, surrounded by lighter, pebble-sized emeralds.

"It's beautiful," Draco whispered in awe.

"It's yours."

"You're kidding!"

"No. As an heir of Slytherin, it belongs to you."

Draco stared at the headmaster before lifting the sword in his hands.

"Harry, as Griffindor's heir, this sword belongs to you."

"But the Sorting Hat wanted me in Slytherin! I can't be Griffindor's heir," Harry explained.

"The Sorting Hat wanted you in Slytherin because Tom Riddle is of Slytherin blood. You are Griffindor's heir, as was your father."

"Why tell us this now?" Draco asked.

"I am but destiny's pawn."

Dumbledore left the room, leaving the two boys to puzzle over his cryptic statement.

Draco was sitting in the Charms classroom. The room was silent except for the scratching of his quill on parchment. His attention to this task was so great he didn't see the door open and someone watch him from the doorway.

"Potions homework?" Harry guessed, breaking the silence and causing Draco to jump.

"Potter. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I asked first."

"I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk and found you."

"You seem to have a thing for midnight walks."

"As you do for staying up all night. What _are_ you doing?"

"Plotting ways to kill you."

"Can I have a look?"

"Are you really that thick Potter?"

"If you're going to kill me I'd at least like to know how."

Harry reached for the small book but Draco snapped it shut and put his hand over it. "Stay the fuck away from me," Draco whispered in a voice that made even Harry's skin turn to ice.

Draco stalked past Harry and back to the dungeons and his dormitory. As he dressed for bed, he realised he'd left the book in the classroom with Harry. A slow smile spread across his face as he went to sleep and, again, dreamed of his enemy. 

Harry stared after Draco, confusion evident in his eyes. His eyes checked the room and he saw the book on a desk. As he read the cover he grinned. _Malfoy owns a diary? This is too perfect!_ When he touched the diary, however, it burst into flame.

"Pesarious."

The book was burnt beyond recognition. 

"Reparo."

As he read the repaired diary, Harry's hand began to shake. By the time he finished, his whole body was wracked by uncontrollable shudders. Almost absently, he picked up the diary and carried it to his dorm. As he watched the moon rise, he knew two things: he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, and he needed to talk to Draco.

Harry watched his shaking arms until dawn, amazed by his physical reaction to Draco's secret.

Draco was pissed off. It was one thing to have nightmares, but an entirely different thing to have them replaced by images of his enemy. They weren't murderous images either. Yesterday he could ignore it, but last night he'd had a real image of Harry's chest to supplement his imagination.

He slipped out of his dorm before any of his classmates awoke. He stalked down to the Great Hall and played with his breakfast. He talked to is fellow Slytherins a he subtly kept an eye on the door. He watched as Harry, surrounded by his small group of friends, walked in. Draco's observing was cut short by the arrival of the post. 

A beautiful snowy owl flew over to him and dropped a small package in his lap. Draco didn't recognise the owl. It had brought his diary and a note to meet at the broom shed at midnight to discuss what had happened over the summer hols. Draco's calm was gone as he met Harry's eyes, his face filled with shock. Harry winked at him before turning back to his friends.

"What's the matter Draco," asked Pansy.

"Bloody Potter!"

"I know," sympathised Blaise, "I can't wait until the Boy Who Failed becomes the Boy Who Died."

Draco barely heard his ex-boyfriend. His mind was filling with plans to make this meeting much more interesting than the last three.


	3. Unanswered Questions

Note: **anything in** **_italics _is a thought, and anything in _italics _surrounded by these// are telepathic communication.**

Chapter 3: Unanswered Questions

The snow swirled around the three black shapes moving slowly across the lawn. It attacked them indiscriminately, turning their lips blue and freezing their skin so much that it wondered whether they were alive at all. Still it kept up its assault, and still the shapes didn't notice. They were too involved in their conversation.

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione as they bickered continuously. They had gone out during fifth year but realised it wasn't going to work, as Ron was gay. Harry also knew his bread was buttered on that side, but was been glad he and Ron had never dated. His friendship with Ron was more precious than anything that could bring, especially now.

His friendship with Hermione had become even closer since he'd told her last year. Hermione had filled out well and was now the most beautiful girl in the school. She was glad to be able to be friends with a guy without having to worry about him falling for her. Without his two best friends, Harry was sure that he would've killed himself. Only a few of his friends still stood by him, and he valued the loyalty of those few more than they ever realised.

Sirius hadn't been angry or disappointed with him. He'd told Harry that courage would've gotten him killed, and nothing would've been gained by it. But Harry knew Sirius was wrong, he would've gained his self-respect. Despite what anyone thought, no one hated Harry as much as he himself did, and that was what had changed him.

The group stopped suddenly, knowing only from years of experience that this was Hagrid's hut. As Harry waited for Hagrid's head to appear through the concealing whiteness of everything around them, other groups of black shapes stopped further away, obviously trying to ignore and humiliate Harry.

A half-smile played on Harry's lips. Did they really think that by turning their backs on him he'd be humiliated? He didn't _care_ what they thought of him. His first and second years had taught him how quickly people turn. Their open hate didn't hurt him. Not even _his_ hatred towards himself could do that. Nothing could hurt him.

Hagrid opened his tall door eagerly, and searched his students' faces. They were all ignoring Harry, poor boy. It was hard enough getting through school, with_out_ having to deal with being put on a pedestal and always being measured short. 

Malfoy and his gang were discussing something eagerly in low whispers, probably how to best get him fired. Or Harry expelled. Malfoy kept shooting viscious glares at Harry's back. Malfoy was a bully, but he usually wasn't this open with his hatred. _Something _must have happened.

The class gradually quietened, realising their teacher was watching. Slowly, he was earning their respect. Soon the whole class was quiet, except for the Slytherins.

"Malfoy, if y' want to t' teach the class 'bout winged horses then go ahead. Otherwise, pay attention an' follow me.'

The class followed cautiously. Hagrid was in a good mood, and any creature that could do that was usually dangerous. They all released a collective breath as they walked into the clearing. Even the Slytherins had to appreciate the beauty of these animals.

The winged horses were huge, pale white, with silken manes. However, it was their wings that made them so breathtakingly beautiful. The wings were transparent, with veins of gold, or silver, or both. Every imaginable colour and shade covered them in a spectacular and unique pattern. Hagrid watched their amazed faces appreciatively.

"Winged horses are very rare. This group jus' flew in yesterday. They're very friendly, but be polite. If they get angry or scared, they kick, an' they're strong."

The classes gazes at the beautiful beasts turned fearful as they remembered a similar warning for the Hippogriffs. Before Hagrid could worry, Harry stepped forward, completely confident. He went up to the first one and ran his hands over its side. The horse neighed softly and Harry continued.

The rest of the class, Slytherins first, hurried forward, determined to prove they were as fearless as Harry was. Even Draco seemed to enjoy the horses, and stopped Goyle pulling the tail of one. 

Draco loved the horses. This was the first time he had ever seen one up close. He also appreciated their delicate beauty and the ruby eyes that signified its pure heritage. It was like a priceless piece of art, sculpted to perfection.

He had managed to lose his House shadows. He needed to think out his plan, and they were distracting. He became so embroiled in his thoughts, he didn't hear Hagrid's roar to pair up and see if their horse was telepathic. He was only drawn back to the present by Harry asking him to pair up.

"What?"

"You heard Hagrid, and you haven't got a partner. So move over."

Draco complied, cursing every god he could remember. _How am I supposed to work with the one guy I've been fantasising about almost continuously for the past two days!_

Draco smothered his discomfort with a sneer. "Want to go first _Potter_?"

"Sure."

Harry slowly held out his want and reached up to place the tip between the horse's eyes. At once, he was enveloped by a sense of peace and security.

**__**

// Hello Harry Potter**. //**

//H-how do you know my name? // Harry stammered inside his mind.

//Telepathy has its benefits. How is your poor friend over there? //

Harry followed the gaze of those captivating blood-red eyes. _//He's not my friend! //_

//He is your enemy. But you want more, don't you? //

__

//It's none of your business! //

//You can't change it. It's destiny. //

//I don't **believe **in destiny //

__

//You should. // A sound, similar to a sigh, entered his mind. _//Since you don't want_ to _talk, let Draco Malfoy do this instead//_

//Fine. //

"Your turn Malfoy," Harry spat out. Harry couldn't believe it; the horse had actually made him mad! He was never angry, never lost his calm. Harry glanced at the horse as Draco held out his wand, and it winked at him. _What the hell is going on here?_

The horse, Amethyst, looked at the pale boy in front of her. His thoughts were tainted with evil, but he could still change sides. Magic was deep in his soul, she could feel it. He could become a great asset.

__

//Hello Draco Malfoy. //

//What the…//

//My name is Amethyst//

//Shit! I hate telepathic creatures. //

//Why? //

// If you're telepathic then you should know! //

//Because you hate people seeing past your mask to your true thoughts. //

Draco just stood with his arms folded and glared, trying to ignore the voice in his mind.

__

//Like your obsession with Harry. //

Draco broke his silence, _// I am **not** obsessed with him. I **hate** him! //_

//You can't lie to me. //

Draco continued in his tirade, oblivious to the comment. _//If you believe that, then you must be reading my thoughts wrongly. //_

//Just like those fantasies about your father? //

//You bitch! //

// I'm a horse, not a dog! But really, isn't torturing your father a **bit** too much? //

//It's better than he deserves! // Draco replied fiercely. Distantly, he heard the shouting of his teacher, and Harry's soft warnings.

__

//Farewell Draco. //

Draco removed his wand as quickly as he could without spooking the horse. Harry gave him a strange look before walking over to his small circle of friends. Draco looked back at Amethyst with an unguarded expression, before walking slowly back to the castle.

Amethyst watched until everyone, even Hagrid, had gone. Then, ignoring the rest of her group, she flew up into the air to the far edge of the Forbidden Forest. She watched almost indifferently as a black-robed figure put his wand to her head and she told him the two boys' secrets.

Draco paced across the desolate broom shed. The moon was only a tiny glowing sliver, almost swallowed by the never-ending blackness.

Draco cursed, glanced at his watch, and cursed again.

He turned around suddenly and looked at his handiwork. Only then did he allow himself a small smile, before resuming his pacing.

As Harry ran across the snow-covered Quidditch pitch, he regretted lending Ron his Invisibility Cloak. Ron, as usual, wanted it to sneak to the kitchens and the Astronomy Tower. Harry knew no one could see him in the darkness, but he felt strangely exposed sneaking around the school without it.

His foot suddenly connected with something solid. That Harry guessed was the broom shed. He opened the door and was suddenly hit by a bright light. He felt himself fall, before he was caught by a pair of strong arms that dragged him across the shed, and summoned ropes that imprisoned him to a chair. He recognised the voice. 

__

Malfoy!

"Honestly Potter, you're lighter than a house-elf! What are you trying to do, starve yourself to death?"

"Malfoy, why have you gone to so much trouble on my account?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"You read my diary! Did you honestly think I was going to meekly let you go to Dumbledore?"

"I wouldn't have."

"Yeah right. Hell, probably all of Gryffindor probably knows by now!"

"I didn't tell anyone," Harry shouted.

"I don't believe you."

"Whatever," Harry replied blandly.

"If you _didn't_ tell anyone," Draco said suspiciously, "then why did you ask me to come here? To rub it in?"

"No. I thought you might want to talk to someone."

"Well I don't, and if I did, you wouldn't even be on the list."

"Who then? Crabbe? Goyle? Pansy? Admit it, you couldn't talk to any of them about it."

To Harry's utter amazement, Draco started to laugh uncontrollably. "A hart-to-heart with Crabbe and Goyle? No one's that stupid."

Harry waited until Draco's laughter died down, "Talk about it, it'll help."

"Who appointed _you_ my guardian angel?"

"Me."

"Why should you? We're enemies."

"Are we?"

"Of course we are. Gryffindor and Slytherin, opposing Seekers, He Who Lived and the son of a powerful Death Eater. How can we be anything else? Even if you had accepted my hand back on the train, we could never have been anything else."

"Just because your father's evil, it doesn't mean you are."

Draco chuckled mirthlessly. "Please, the only reason I'm not a Death eater is because I am weak."

"Could you work for Voldemort? Could you kill me, or my friends, in cold blood and blind obedience? Your father might be a suck-up, but that is one thing you aren't" 

"Dark magic is raw power. I love power.'

"You aren't a slave to it."

"But I would've been if Voldemort hadn't…" Draco trailed off.

"Could you work for him, and your father, now?"

The complete silence that surrounded the two youths seemed unnatural in its completeness. Harry had voiced the one question that Draco was afraid to answer, even to himself. After a couple of minutes, Harry received a reply.

"No. It wasn't just the curses; I'm used to them. But what he did after that," Draco shuddered, "I could never stand that. It wasn't just him raping me; it was the way he _enjoyed _it. It was that my father watched with a smile on his face. It was that my own _mother _laughed at it."

Draco made sure he avoided Harry's gaze as he slid to the floor.

"You didn't deserve that."

The comment was spoken in a whisper, but Draco heard it perfectly in the still room. As Harry's words sunk in, a single tear slipped down Draco's cheek. Countless more followed, as Draco cried out all the rage and fear and pain the memory brought back to him. Harry watched helplessly, unable to comfort the boy beside him, looking so scared and vulnerable. He watched Draco in empathy until he finished.

"Can you undo me?"

Draco looked up at Harry with unguarded eyes and a tear-streaked face. He looked so young to Harry at that moment.

"Finite Incantatem."

Harry tumbled to the hard wood floor as the ropes disappeared. He looked up to see Draco's fearful gaze.

"I won't tell anyone," Harry said instinctively, guessing at Draco's anxiety.

"Why should I trust you?"

"Why would I lie?"

"Ever the true Gryffindor," Draco answered sarcastically.

"When you think about it, Gryffindor and Slytherin aren't all that different."

Draco was about to reply, when his green and silver Prefect necklace started glowing. The same thing was happening to Harry's scarlet and gold one.

"Shit!"

As one, they ran up to the castle. As Draco headed for the dungeons, Harry sprinted up to the Gryffindor Tower.

Harry's first thought as he entered the common room was of chaos. The room was filled with all the Gryffindors, Professor McGonagall, Nearly Headless Nick, and Peeves. Most of the first years, and a fair few of the second years, were crying. All the Gryffindor Prefects looked as though they were almost in hysterics.

"What is it?" Harry asked Ron urgently.

Ron turned to him with serious, fearful eyes. "You know Oliver Wood's little brother Alex?"

Harry nodded mutely, horrible images of what was wrong running rampant in his mind.

"He was playing near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. His friends were about to get him when they heard him scream and saw him pulled into the Forest. They haven't found him. And Harry, there was the Dark Mark above the Forest just after!"

  


__


	4. Faith

****

Chapter 4: Faith

"Professor, why do sixth and seven years have to search as well?" Draco asked Snape curiously.

"We need to find the boy as quickly as possible and we have a lot of ground to cover. You will have to lead the Slytherin sixth years, and you'll have to work with the Griffindor sixth years." Before Draco could protest, Snape continued with his orders, "you will be searching the south end of the Forbidden Forest. If you find him, send up green sparks. If you get into trouble…"

"Red sparks," Draco interrupted, "I know."

"Good. Now hurry."

"What!" Ron cried to nobody in particular, "why do we have to work with the Slytherins? They'll probably finish Alex off, and that is even _if_ we find him!"

"Ron," Neville said calmly, "the Death Eaters probably just scared him a bit. I'm sure he's fine."

As Ron tried to argue with Neville's logic, he noticed Harry staring into the fire. Ron shushed his boyfriend for a moment. "Harry don't blame yourself. Neville's right, Alex is probably fine."

Harry turned slowly and gave Ron a half-smile. "You're right. C'mon."

As Ron and the rest of Griffindor filed out of the room, Ron allowed himself the luxury of fear, and it wasn't over himself.

Harry ran towards the Forbidden Forest, raw adrenilane pumping through his veins. He waited impatiently at the southern edge for the Gryffindors and Slytherins.

"_Scared_ Potter?"

A frighteningly mirthless laugh escaped from Harry's throat. "Malfoy, I've been in this forest more times than you would believe."

Draco glanced at him with a look of derision before leading the Slytherins into the dense shrubbery. Despite Draco's confidence, the Slytherins looked a little nervous. Harry joined Draco, flanked by Ron, Neville and Hermione. 

Apart from the wand held out, Harry looked completely serene.

The rest of the Gryffindors weren't any more confident than the Slytherins. Despite what others may have wished otherwise, Harry and Draco had become the unofficial leaders, their friends close behind them.

"Malfoy, stop," Harry told the silver-haired Slytherin quietly.

They weren't very far in, but the only light was that created by their wands. Harry bent over a protruding tree root, examining it awkwardly with his wand overhead. Draco put his wand there instead, making it easier for Harry to see. A scowl crossed Draco's face at his classmates' curious looks. "The quicker we find the brat, the quicker we can leave."

"Malfoy. This is blood, human blood by the look of it. It's leading that way."

Draco's gaze followed the direction of Harry's wand, which lead deeper into the forest. Silently, Harry rose and the two boys lead their classmates further away from Hogwarts.

"Ron," Harry asked suddenly, "where are Mosag and Aragog?"

Ron paled visibly. "I-I don't know. Deep into the Forest."

"This deep?" Harry asked, not realising that he had stopped and the rest of the group was getting nervous.

"I don't know!" Ron replied hysterically.

Harry, just noticing Ron's pallor, attempted to reassure him. "Don't worry Ron, Hagrid's probably got that area."

"What if he hasn't?"

"Then keep your wand out," was Harry's only reply. With that, they continued. Suddenly, Draco spun on his heel and faced Harry. "_Who_ or _what_ are Mosag and Aragog."

Harry kept walking, completely calm. Over his shoulder he called, "Acromantulas."

"What! Acromantulas in _this_ forest?"

"Yep," was the only reply from Harry.

"What do they have to do with Hagrid?"

"They're his pets."

Harry increased his pace, careful to follow the faint blood trail. He heard Draco's comments about half-giants and their savage tendencies, but decided to ignore them. However, he did respond when Draco asked, "What are we supposed to do if they _are_ in our area?"

"Hope a Stunning spell will work."

"That _really_ inspires confidence," Draco grumbled sarcastically.

"At least its better than your practice of screaming like a girl and running away!"

Draco reddened at the memory from first year. "At least I don't squeal like a girl and stand there, waiting to be attacked!" 

"Yes, we're _really_ going to find Alex if we bolt at the first sign of something unusual!"

The argument would have continued if the group hadn't seen a pale shape emerging from the clustered foliage. Everyone except Harry and Draco jumped, and most screamed. Before anyone could hex the creature, Harry walked up to it. "Hello again Firenze." 

The albino centaur smiled in reply, "Hello Harry Potter."

"A small boy is missing. Have you seen anything?"

Firenze gave Harry a deep look before saying, "Let the stars guide you, for they never lie."

"Uh, thanks."

With that, the centaur was gone. The rest of the group was looking at Harry strangely.

"Harry," asked Ron, "why do you know a centaur?"

"First year detention."

"I _hate _to interrupt this _fascinating_ conversation," Draco drawled, "but I have better things to do than search for some Gryffindor crybaby."

Harry turned and glared at Draco with icy hatred. "The only _crybabies_ at this school are Slytherins." He spun around and walked ahead of the group, following the blood trail with ease. Not to be outdone, Draco caught up to him. They walked together in almost companionable silence, and felt themselves relax. They were still visible to their housemates, but were far enough away that a conversation could not be overhead. They felt a world away, and their differences vanished amongst the cold air and rhythmic tread. Draco was the one who broke the silence. "The look you gave me back there would've made most people run. You are completely confident in this forest, and you've faced Voldemort five times and lived. Why didn't you do anything last year?"

"Don't you think I was trying to save my own skin?"

Draco smiled grimly. " Even I have to admit you're brave. I told you my secret, now you tell me yours. Why?"

Harry walked a little faster. He kept his back to Draco as he talked, using the guise of following the blood.

"When I first saw the Death Eaters that day, I took my wand out to attack, when an image of Cedric being hit by Avada Kedavra replaced everything going on around me. I saw Ginny lying in the Chamber of Secrets, and I saw my parents dying. It was like being near a Dementor, but worse. I heard people pleading for me to help, but they seemed so far away. By the time the images disappeared, the Death Eaters were Disapparating."

The only sound breaking the silence was Harry's ragged breathing. He was sure Draco was judging him, and was equally sure that he would fall short of expectation. _What kind of **hero** am I?_

"Well that explains a fair bit," Draco commented casually.

"What?" 

Draco stopped walking and looked Harry straight in the eyes. "My father told me about a new curse they'd found, the Alpdruck curse. It is untraceable and makes the victim relive their worst memories. You weren't a coward Harry, you were a victim of _very_ powerful Dark magic."

Harry desperately tried to take all this in. "I still should've fought it."

"You can't fight it."

Comprehension dawned on Harry. "Voldemort put you under it."

Draco started walking again, keeping his eyes to the ground. Harry was shocked by the barely audible, "yes," from Draco.

Harry was about to comfort him when he noticed the blood trail becoming fresher and thicker. "Alex must be near," he said, almost to himself.

Harry and Draco managed to get the message across to Hermione (using a lot of indistinct sign language), before clambering through the overgrown bushes, following no discernible path, the blood their only guide. 

It led them to a small clearing, about the size of Harry's bedroom. At the far end, there was a small boy with messy brown hair and a stake through his side, securing him to the tree. The blood was pouring profusely, and Harry knew that Alex would need medical attention _immediately_ if he was to live.

"Nox."

"Draco, can you see the Death Eater?" Harry asked in a soundless whisper.

"Behind there." Draco replied, pointing near Alex. The boys crept silently back to their group and, with a lot of persuasion and threatening on Draco's part, they were able to get the Slytherins and Gryffindors to agree on a plan.

Hermione followed Harry's furtive signals and crept silently behind a large tree. She counted the seconds under her breath. She burst forth suddenly into the clearing. Ron and Neville were in synch with her, and they managed to undo the unconscious boy.

"Mobilicorpus."

As Hermione directed Alex's still, bloody body into the woods, she saw Harry and Draco step forward. 

Avery had known the assignment would be difficult, but he had not expected _students_ to take part, much less face him. It was not his conscience that was bothering him; it was just that he was supposed to be fighting Dumbledore. 

Avery could see the many wands pointed at him from the gaps between the trees, but did not have time to attack them before _Harry Potter_ and _Draco Malfoy_ were standing in front of him, wands aimed at his heart. Avery had never backed down from a fight. He accepted the challenge, only thinking of glory.

The boys surprised him. Voldemort had told him the Malfoy heir was useless, and Potter not much better. However, the two boys worked well together, never saying a word but always knowing what the other was doing. They were powerful and clever. Avery started to worry. He shot a badly aimed Confuddlement curse at Draco before trying to Stupefy Harry. Then blackness replaced his vision.

Harry and Draco were still congratulating each other when the teachers arrived, hailed by Hermione's urgent sparks.

"Mr Potter! Mr Malfoy! What on earth just occurred here?"

They heard the sharp timbre of McGonagall's voice before they saw her outraged face. 

The two boys turned to their teacher, a look reminiscent of a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar gracing their features. 

"Um, we found Alex," Harry said, looking at McGonagall hopefully.

"And we stunned the Death Eater who abducted him," Draco finished for Harry, looking confident and sounding bored.

"You could've been killed!" Professor McGonagall cried.

"Actually, only one of us would've died before the other was able to hex the Death Eater. Besides," Harry shrugged, "our housemates were hidden between the trees in case we were hexed."

The faint pink spots on McGonagall's cheeks darkened. Before she could yell again, or Snape, who was just itching to insult Harry, could speak, Dumbledore held up his hand. "Well done. To duel with a Death Eater is no easy task. Fifty points will be awarded to both your houses for your effort."

Ron, Neville, Hermione and Dumbledore started walking up to the castle, Alex's prostrated form floating before them. McGonagall and Snape went to call of the search, bickering continually.

Harry and Draco stayed, staring at each other in the meager moonlight. They didn't speak, content in each other's company. The forest became eerily silent around them. Draco couldn't stand it any longer. "You were really good."

Harry smiled. "You were pretty good yourself."

"What can I say," Draco said with a childish smile, "you bring out the Gryffindor in me."

"As you bring out the Slytherin in me," Harry returned grinning. 

The transformation in them both since _that _night was amazingly clear. As they faced each other, Draco's smiled deepened into something more mysterious. He walked slowly and silently towards Harry, almost afraid of spoiling the moment. When he stopped, he held out a slightly shaking hand on Harry's jawbone. Harry didn't move, and the only change visible was the deepening of his green eyes. Draco leaned in slowly, and softly caught Harry's lips. Harry melted in Draco's arms. The kiss became deeper and more intense as the two boys' senses were drowned by the powerful desire. 

Harry stiffened suddenly and broke the kiss, looking pleadingly at Draco. "I can't," he whispered, "I don't want to bring you into this."

"I'm already in this," Draco whispered against Harry's soft lips.

They kissed again, this kiss not as passionate, but instead filled with unspoken promises. The kiss became deeper, consuming any coherent thoughts. And as the sun rose, Harry and Draco found their release from the harsh world around them, in the safety of the other's embrace.

****


	5. What's this life For?

****

Chapter 5: What's This Life For?

__

Hurray for a child 

That makes it through

If there's any way 

Because the answer lies in you

They're laid to rest

Before they know just what to do

Their souls are lost

Because they could never find

What's this life for

I see your soul, it's kind of gray

I see your heart, you look away

You see my wrist, I know your pain

I know your purpose on your plane

Don't say a last prayer

Because you could never find

What's this life for

But they ain't here anymore

Don't have to settle the score

Cause we all live

Under the reign of one king

- What's this Life For, Creed

****

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco sat in front of a low-burning fire in the Slytherin common room. The room was empty; the other Slytherins busy with homework or enjoying Hogsmeade. Draco just sat in his chair, staring through unseeing eyes at the dancing flames. 

He was remembering the morning. His and Harry's soul-searing lovemaking was vivid in his mind, as was his awkward exit after they were spent. Draco knew Harry was hurt, but lying lovingly in Harry's arms had awakened long-buried hopes. But with those hopes came the expectation of disappointment. He knew he didn't deserve Harry. Harry was a hero, but more importantly than that, he was _good_. In everything he said or did the Light pretty much shone from him. Draco wasn't even good enough to be part of Voldemort's subservient army. 

For now, Harry cared for him. There was no doubt of that; he wore his heart on his sleeve. But how long would he care? How long would it take for everything Draco had confided in him actually sunk in? How long before Harry realised that, despite his angelic appearance, Draco was covered in sin. He had never been innocent enough, never been _good_ enough for Harry.

Draco knew Harry deserved someone better, like one of his do-gooder Gryffindor friends. He hated the thought of another person touching Harry, but he hated even more the thought of Harry never being happy. Draco was unworthy of such love. He wasn't even worthy of the death he so craved. He knew that lesson well; his father had repeated it continuously over the summer. Draco knew that he was never meant to have Harry. 

Harry would never agree with him though. That annoying, yet somehow endearing Gryffindor stubbornness would stop Harry from understanding the truth; this was a mistake. 

Since Harry would never do anything about it, he would have to. But how could he convince Harry? What would be able to get past the stubbornness and loyalty so deeply ingrained in Harry?

What would hurt him enough to let Draco go?

Harry wasn't at Hogsmeade. In fact, he was alone on the Quidditch pitch, his broom dangling half-forgotten in one hand. He was indeed hurt by the way Draco had practically run from him that morning. He thought that Draco's reaction was because of what he had suffered at Voldemort's hands. 

At least that's what Harry hoped.

It was that niggling worry that had brought him out here to work off his worries. Except now that he was here he realised it wasn't going to work. This wasn't where he wanted to be. What he wanted was to be with Draco and finding out what had caused his hurried departure that morning.

Harry raked his hands through his unruly hair. It could be that Draco had left as soon as he got what he had wanted from Harry. After all, neither of them had ever admitted having feelings for each other. Harry had only just realised how deep his feelings were. This was no one-night stand - this was soul deep love. Harry wanted Draco to be his forever.

But how did Draco feel? Draco usually kept his emotions contained under a thick layer of arrogance, giving the appearance of having none at all. But Harry had seen them, seen Draco's pain and anger. But Harry had never seen love in those icy grey eyes.

Draco was, no doubt, used to more exotic and experienced lovers. Harry's experience was limited to several brief relationships mainly consisting of shagging in a convenient broom closet. None of them had ever come close to what Draco made Harry feel.

For so long Harry had felt nothing. His emotions had been so deeply buried that not even he could find them. Then had come an angel with hair made from rays of sunlight and eyes that mirrored the intensity of a building storm. Now Harry felt so many things, too many things. By giving Draco his heart, Harry was more vulnerable than he had ever been

Harry had given Draco the ultimate weapon to his destruction. If Draco used it, Harry wasn't sure he could survive.

Draco walked decisively towards the Quidditch Pitch, somehow sure that Harry would be there. Draco's robes swirled around him as he opened the heavy door and met the icy wind. 

There was Harry, his ebony hair contrasting with the grey sky. As though sensing Draco's presence, Harry turned around. He smiled brilliantly and Draco was tempted to forget his plan and just take Harry in his arms. Determinedly, he hardened his heart.

"Potter."

Harry's smile faltered and he searched Draco's gaze for a clue to his sudden coldness.

"Draco, are you okay? You left so quickly this morning. I was worried."

__

"Damn him," Draco thought, _"he just has to make this harder."_

Deliberately, Draco made his voice sarcastic. "You were worried about_ me_ Potter? I'm touched."

"Draco, " Harry gasped. He looked as though he'd been slapped in the face. "What's happened to you?"

"Nothing. Why are you so upset?" Draco eyes widened in fake realisation. " You expected me to be proclaiming my everlasting love." Draco laughed. "Gods Potter you're naïve. Did you honestly think I _cared_ about you? I just wanted to see if I could fuck the Gryffindor Golden Boy."

Harry looked as though he was going to punch him or cry. Knowing Harry's tears would undo him, Draco kept on, each word hurting more than a whiplash.

"Not that you weren't good, you just need a bit more practice."

"That's all I was to you – a dare?" Harry asked, betrayed.

"Of course. Though, if it makes you feel better, I've never had to work so hard for a fuck, especially one that clumsy. Don't look so sad Potter, you're finally an official Slytherin conquest."

Draco barely finished speaking before he was knocked to the ground. Looking up, he saw Harry, fist raised. Draco smirked. A pissed-off Harry he could deal with. Draco jumped to his feet, adrenaline giving him fire.

Suddenly they heard a distant peal of laughter and a murmur of voices all trying to be heard at once.

Draco looked to Hogsmeade. There were only a couple of students a fair way off. He turned back to Harry prepared for a fight. But Harry had disappeared, leaving Draco alone with his breaking heart. Draco admonished himself for his pain at Harry's quick acceptance. It was for the greater good. To stop this before he fell for his enemy. Except Draco feared that it was already too late.

In the dungeons Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape surrounded the unconscious Avery. Snape strode forward and emptied the clear contents of a small glass vial into the man's mouth. Minerva took a step forward, her eyes betraying her disgust of her former student.

"Ennervate."

Avery's eyes opened, but his gaze was unfocused as the Veritaserum began to flow through his veins. Minerva questioned him, apparently the only one with a clear idea of what was going on. 

"Why did you come here?"

"To fight Dumbledore," he admitted. "I was to give him a Portkey that would take him to my lord."

"Why does Voldemort want Dumbledore?"  


"He was going to use him as ransom to get a book. Then he was going to keep him. Torture him."

"Why not kill him?"

"I don't know."

"Why didn't you just owl a Portkey?"

"Voldemort wanted to create a distraction so that you wouldn't realise his disappearance so soon. Also, he wanted you to know it was his work."

"Why did he want the book?"

"I don't know."

"How did you get onto the school grounds?"

"A spy within Hogwarts created a hole in the barrier."

"Who is the spy?"

"I don't know."

"Why did you fight Harry and Draco?"

"They attacked me. I didn't think they'd be so good."

"What are Voldemort's other plans?"

"I don't know."

"Why not?"

"We only find out before we go."

"Stupefy."

The other staff looked at Minerva pensively. 

"Why would Voldemort keep Albus alive? Killing him would be easier, and it would lower morale."

Minerva explained. "Uncertainty creates panic. That is one reason. If Albus was dead, it would be terrible, but we would face it. But with Albus missing there is paralysis. Will he reappear, or will he not? Nobody knows, and until they know nothing definite can be done. And, uncertainty breeds panic, which is what Voldemort is playing for. Also, he has the advantage of blackmail."

Snape turned to her, his curiousity piqued. "That's good and well, but what book does he want? It might tell us his plan."

Minerva's eyes widened innocently. "I have absolutely no idea."

Snape's only reply was a raised eyebrow. 

"I believe your classes are about to start," Dumbledore said, interrupting. All the teachers filed out of the room, except Minerva. 

Dumbledore looked at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I presume you know what book Avery was talking about."

"Of course. It is the book in which we found the potion. Voldemort chose wisely, I wouldn't give the book to him for anyone else."

"Why does he want it?"

"The only way to overcome the potion is written in there. Voldemort knows it only from memory; to have it would give him a more definite idea of his weakness. He would kill anyone who could possibly be connected to it."

"You have the book safe?"

"Yes. Only I can read it."

Dumbledore sighed deeply. He looked world weary as he told Minerva, "I think it is time to tell the boys. Let them make a decision."

Only when the door to the Prefects' bathroom was gently shut did Harry give in to the tears that were burning at his eyes. No sobs, just quiet tears that slipped down his face but didn't lessen the pain. 

Through clouded eyes he watched as he found the small razor hidden in his pocket. His tears ceased as he stared in morbid fascination as the razor easily cut open his arm, criss-crossing his existing scars in a crazy design with no plan only a desperate wish to be free from this pain. To go back to the cold, emotionless person he was before and forget about Draco Malfoy.

He paused for half a second when the blade bit into his flesh, before continuing the line and beginning to feel the inner peace this always gave him. He cut across his arm again and again in calm, deliberate movements. Blood began to ooze out slowly and for a moment he watched as it glistened in the candlelight. But then he was cutting again, not counting, or even seeing the cuts, but going by his emotions.

Slowly Harry began to feel the icy exterior reemerge, stronger than before. He stopped, and looked at the contrast of his brilliant red blood against the ivory skin. 

Harry began to feel the pain in his arm. For some reason, it always hurt more after he cut himself. But even that he enjoyed – it felt like fire and was twice as alluring. He bent forward and let his tongue trace a path along the bloody skin, enjoying the addictive taste of his own salty, coppery blood.

Resignedly he took one long look at the bloody spectacle before taking several Band-Aids from his pocket. Useful little Muggle inventions. Of course, he could heal the cuts, but that would leave no scar. 

He was distracted by the tap tapping of a black owl against the windowpane. Quickly he let the bird in, barely untying the message before it flew off.

****

Mr Potter,

Professor Dumbledore and I need to speak to you at 3pm this afternoon in the Headmaster's office. The password is "candy cane". 

Professor McGonagall

"Fuck!"

Draco wandered through the rose gardens, attempting to purge himself of memories about a certain Gryffindor Seeker. He was so involved in the task that he didn't notice the great black owl following him until its talons dug into his shoulder. 

"Ow!"

Draco stumbled and fell ungracefully onto his behind. So he was naturally not impressed at the bird that was calmly ruffling its feathers at the spectacle. Swearing profusely, Draco untied the note and the poor owl flew off.

****

Mr Malfoy,

Professor Dumbledore and I need to speak to you at 3pm this afternoon in the Headmaster's office. The password is "candy cane". 

Professor McGonagall

"_Great_," Draco thought, "_just what I need_."

Harry ran up the corridor, praying his watch was wrong. He didn't know that a simple game of chess with Ron would take so long. With the adrenaline in his veins and the speed at which he was running (a skill that hadn't diminished despite his time in the air) it is no wonder he didn't see the lean figure looking suspiciously at the gargoyles.

"Oof."

The other person got up. "Watch where you're going next time…" Draco trailed off as he released who had run into him.

"Malfoy."

Harry's voice was empty. 

Draco stuttered "I –I was told to come here by McGonagall."

"Ditto."

They murmured the password and climbed quickly up the stairs, anxious to be out of each other's company. They entered the office cautiously and found Minerva and Dumbledore behind the desk. They sat down, and before they could talk Minerva began.

"I'm sure you're curious about why you're here."

"The boys nodded. Minerva seemed to be directing this meeting.

"You see," she said, settling down comfortably, "it has to do with a story."

The boys listened, intrigued, and managed to forget their differences for a while.

"This story starts, as all good stories should, with a boy and a girl. They attended Hogwarts along time ago and they were the bitterest of enemies. A Slytherin and Gryffindor respectively. They were quite bright, and constantly competing in every subject. This continued until their fifth year. They were both Prefects. They gradually became friends and then fell in love. They used to explore the school at night, and one night they found a book, hidden deep within the foundations of the school. It was _Salzaar Slytherin's Spells_."

Draco gasped. "The real book? But wasn't it destroyed?"

Minerva smiled. "No. Godric Gryffindor tried to destroy it but Salzaar had charmed it too well. Since it couldn't be destroyed, he decided to hide it so that it could never be found." 

"_It should never have been found_."

She seemed to shake herself out of her reverie. "However, the two students read it, and found the prize of a lifetime: immortality. It was a potion that would protect the drinker forever. So they brewed it and became immortal."

"How does that effect us?" Harry questioned.

"I think you might recognise the names from this story. The Slytherin was Tom Marvolo Riddle."

It was Harry's turn to gasp. "What _idiot_ helped Voldemort become immortal?"

Draco's eyes widened as he looked to Minerva, demanding an answer.

"Me."

There was a deafening silence in the room. Draco's mind was reeling with new information, none of it he wanted to know.

"Why?" Draco asked, desperately trying to comprehend.

Minerva answered him with a bitter smile. "Love. Why else?"

Draco shook his head slightly. "But even then couldn't you see his power? The potential to destroy so much?"

"I knew he was powerful, but I didn't see the evil in him. He was till so young, so innocent. How was I supposed to know what he would become?"

"He was a Slytherin," Harry cut in harshly, making Draco wince.

Minerva glared at him, making him instantly regret his words. "He was also the boy who held me when I found out Grindelwald had killed my parents."

Dumbledore finally decided to speak up, dissolving the emotional tension in the room. "Minerva, do you have the book?"

Minerva closed her eyes and traced an ancient symbol in the air. A thick, aging tome appeared before her on the desk. Harry and Draco watched curiously as Minerva produced a knife from her robe, and deliberately cut a slit down her palm. She clenched her fist and several drops of blood fell to the ancient leather cover of the book. It opened to a decoratively written, age-stained page.

"This is how you come into the picture."

__

"Heir of Water, Heir of Fire,

When the Elders age and tire,

You will be there Echo

And your pure blood will flow.

It will taint the Devil.

It will kill the Evil.

Up to heaven you shall go,

And he will burn down below."

Draco stared at Minerva disbelievingly, his eyes showing only pure terror.

"I don't understand it," Harry muttered.

Switching her gaze to Harry, Minerva explained. "_Heir of Water, Heir of Fire_. The heirs of two powerful enemies."

"Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"_When the Elders age and tire. _Tom and I are sixty-nine* this year."

"_You will be there Echo_" Harry repeated.

"You're both former enemies, now in love. In Slytherin and Gryffindor, and you are both heirs to the same enemies that we were related to."

"Tom and Slytherin," Harry cried.

"And I'm of Gryffindor blood." Minerva paused. "_And your pure blood will flow_ is pretty self-explanatory. _It will taint the Devil. It will kill the Evil._ The 'Devil' and 'Evil' is, of course, Voldemort. _Up to heaven you shall go._" Minerva looked him in the eyes, "you will die and go to heaven, while he goes to hell."

Harry's icy veneer began to crumble. He'd always known he would die young, but to have it spelled out like that…

Harry stood up suddenly and looked down on Minerva. His eyes never wavered in their hatred.

"Draco and I are _not_ in love. And even if we were," Harry informed her, his voice breaking, "I'm sixteen. I don't want to die."

His voice held a desperate plea that tugged at her heartstrings. He was, in so many ways, still a child.

He didn't stay to watch her pain, storming dramatically out of the small office. With a gaze promising retribution, Draco followed Harry's lead, leaving the two old friends alone together.

"Well," Minerva said optimistically, "that went reasonably well."

* I worked out Tom's age as the Chamber of Secrets was opened 50 years before the second book (which I think occurred in 1992) and Tom said he found the chamber in his fifth year, which meant he was born in 1927. If I got my calculations wrong somewhere (which is more than likely) I apologise and I will correct it if you leave a note in your review (hint hint)! 

Also, I apologise for my bad rhyming, and for taking so long to get this chapter up. Thankyou to everyone who reviews!!!!!!!!!!!


	6. Let's Spend the Night

**Chapter 6: Let's Spend the Night**

Harry walked slowly and deliberately towards the hospital wing, guilt over Alex's ordeal weighing heavily on his mind. Although Harry was the magical world's failed hero, he still knew that the real fight in this war was between Voldemort and himself. Every time an innocent was harmed, Harry blamed his own cowardice.

All too soon he was standing in the doorway to the hospital wing, softly calling for Madam Pomfrey. She was in the far corner of the room, diligently ignoring him. Harry' guilt turned to frustration as he stepped into the room, ignoring the glares he received for entering her domain. He walked over to the only occupied bed and, with trembling fingers, pulled aside the curtain. He was pained by the sight of small Alex, surrounded by sweets and get-well cards, curled up like a small child. He was as pale as the sheets that he slept on and had dark smudges under his eyes, evidence of terrifying nightmares, but his face held the peaceful look of pleasant dreams.

Harry sat on a well-worn chair next to the bed, content to watch Alex sleep. However, Alex soon opened his eyes, as if on cue. When they focused on Harry, Alex smiled.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered gently.

Alex's wide brown eyes pinned Harry's gaze. "Why? You didn't do this to me."

"I should've stopped it."

"How could you have known?"

Harry mulled over this. Of course, he knew that he wasn't responsible for Voldemort's actions, but every death and injury was a message to him, Voldemort's constant reminder. Alex wasn't the first hurt, nor would he be the last in Voldemort's relentless fury at The Boy Who Just Wouldn't Die. Alex's soft voice brought Harry out of his deep thoughts.

"Can I tell you what happened? Dumbledore and McGonagall are waiting for me to open up, but I want to talk to you because you, well," Alex stumbled, "you understand."

Yes, Harry understood. He understood what it was like to be thrown into a situation that you had no control over, and which you were too young to deal with. He understood the fear of facing evil and wondering, for the first time in your short life, whether you would die. He understood what it was like to try to explain the combination of panic and desperation, and only receiving utter incomprehension.

"Tell me," Harry encouraged gently.

The story came out slowly, between shock at haunting memories and the sobs that Alex tried desperately to hide. He told of the terror of being suddenly separated from his schoolmates and dragged into a terrifying jungle of darkness. He described the overwhelming fear as he recognised his captor's Death Eater garb, and the crude, bloody threats he whispered. Alex told of the horror of being tied to a tree like a pagan sacrifice, knowing that the Death Eater would lead his would-be rescuers to him, like lambs to the slaughter. In true Gryffindor spirit, he made an attempt to cry out, as his fear for those searching for him overtook that of his own safety. Retribution was swift with a fiery pain that burned hotter than the fires of hell itself for agonising minutes before he gratefully passed into the realm of nothingness.

"What scares me most is that I was supposed to be safe here – it's _Hogwarts_! But even here, with you and Dumbledore, They were able to get me. I don't feel safe anywhere anymore.

Physically I'm okay. Two days rest and I'm out of here. There won't even be a scar. But he left deeper scars. I'm scared. Scared of being outside, scared of being alone, scared of my own shadow. This was the one place that was safe, and still he got in. I want to be brave, be a Gryffindor, but I'm only 11. I don't want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder and jumping at strange noises. I want to play Quidditch and win the Cup. I want to play practical jokes on Snape and get the Slytherins busted for it. I want to be a writer when I grow up. But because my family supports Muggleborns, I'm probably not going to live past my eighteenth birthday, and that's if I'm lucky. What gives him the right to play God, Harry?"

* * *

Harry sat peacefully on the battlements of the South Tower as he watched the sky faded to shades of pink and gold, and finally to the darkest shade of blue. Harry searched the sky carefully, turning around, unheeding the danger.

A soft breeze began to play with Harry's thick robe, but Harry ignored it. He suddenly stopped and smiled. He stared out upon the black emptiness below him as he softly quoted:

"Star light, star bright

First star I see tonight

I wish I may, I wish I might

Have the wish I wish tonight."

Harry laughed softly at the childish rhyme. The words reminded him of something though, something someone had said. Of course! Firenze had made a comment about the stars. What was it again? Oh yes, "_Let the stars guide you, for they never lie._"

Harry laughed harshly. Thrusting his head heavenward, Harry yelled out defiantly into the silent night, "Fine! Guide me. Come on stars, show me the fucking way!"

Suddenly Harry froze. A single cluster of stars held him captivated, the constellation Leo. Leo, Latin for Lion, both his star sign and the symbol of his House. Hermione had once said it was very fitting that he had been born a Leo. "Leo's are intense and passionate leaders with a natural love of life and adventure. They can be terribly stubborn and bossy, but those who get close to Leo's will soon realise that they have vast depths and that their aloofness is part of their other-worldly nature. Professor Alba believes this trait leads to them feeling suffocated by the restrictions of life, always yearning for an unattainable freedom," she had read aloud from some book.

Harry was lost deep in his thoughts for a long time, his gaze never moving from the stars. Maybe Death was not the monster he feared. In a way both his Muggle and magical background had bred the fear of death in him, illustrating it as a cruel entity that takes indiscriminately. He had always hated death for stealing his parents from him, forcing him to live with his horrid relatives, and as a redemption for his cowardice. But for the first time, in the silence of the starlit night, he began to contemplate Death as an emancipation from the suffering of this world. He realised that he did have a choice after all, that was what Firenze had been trying to tell him. The decision between heroism and life. Harry wasn't sure he was ready to leave this life yet.

Harry thought of all his friends: Neville, Seamus, Dean, Justin, Ginny, Hagrid and, of course, Ron and Hermione, his closest and oldest friends. And he thought of Draco, suffering alone through abuse and hatred. Beautiful Draco, whose eyes held the intensity of thunderstorm in both anger and passion, whose pale alabaster skin was pure and clear, in sharp contrast to his own scarred skin, and whose voice could give Harry a reason to breathe, and could take it away in an instant. Draco, who had broken his heart…

* * *

Draco was wandering aimlessly through the castle, pretending to be doing his Prefect duties, but well and truly lost in his thoughts.

McGonagall's revelations had shocked Draco, but not surprised him. He had always known that he would die young. He did not acknowledge this emotionlessly – he was young, there were still many things he wanted to do.

He had always dreamed of playing Quidditch professionally, of being famous for something more than his cursed heritage. He had dreamed of a quiet future, with a house and a family of his own. It was hard to let go of those dreams, but even harder to accept Harry's death. Harry was the hero, the good guy, how could he die? For years Harry had frustrated Voldemort by surviving, and now he had to give his own life to kill him. It just wasn't fair.

Draco had been tempted to ask McGonagall if only one of them needed to be sacrificed – Draco would gladly do it. Anything to spare Harry any further hurt. Draco had already caused him enough pain, and he had no idea of how to mend that rift.

Draco's tired legs guided him up the winding staircase leading up to the South Tower. It was usually empty, but had been the focus of several suicide attempts since Voldemort's return. Of course, the school's magical wards prevented anyone falling more than a few feet, but Draco had no intention of further ruining his night with the piles of paperwork he was required to fill out in such situations.

Wearily, Draco opened the tower door, and was surprised by the sight of Harry perched atop the rough stone battlements, his tanned skin bleached silver by the moonlight, staring up into the beautiful night sky. Fatigue fled Draco's body as he watched Harry, content simply to be in his presence, but careful not to draw attention to that fact.

He watched as Harry seemed to waken from his reverie, and brought is arm out before him. He began slowly pulling back his long robe sleeves, exposing the dark marks that completely covered his arm, visible even from Draco's position. He could not restrain his instinctive gasp at the sight, and Harry turned expectantly. Draco emerged from the shadows of the doorway and Harry stiffened, letting his sleeve drop back to cover his wounds.

"Why are you here," Harry demanded softly.

"I was patrolling," Draco explained, suddenly feeling awkward. "I didn't know you were here."

"Then leave," Harry commanded, dismissing him.

Draco didn't move and the silence hung heavy between them.

"Why do you do it? Why do you hurt yourself?"

There was no reply, and Draco moved to walk off.

"Why do you want to know?" came the sudden question.

"Seeing those wounds was like being kicked in the stomach. I can't bear to think of you in pain, and to think of you so hurt that you had to inflict pain on yourself … I would give anything in the world to prevent you feeling so bad."

Draco knew he was most likely one of the reasons for Harry cutting himself, and that knowledge weighed heavy on his heart.

"When it hurts so much that I can't stand it, and I fear I'm going to shatter like glass, it makes it … better. It doesn't get rid of it, but just gets rid of enough pain for me to be able to survive the rest."

Draco had no idea of what to say in reply to that, so he gave in to his instincts and wrapped his arms around Harry, whispering "I'm sorry" in his ear, and praying that Harry could forgive him. He felt Harry stiffen beneath his hold and tears spilled downs his cheeks. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was trying to protect you."

"From what," Harry questioned Draco.

"Me," he stated simply, his head bowed, refusing to met Harry's eyes. Suddenly he felt Harry's arms wrap around him, and his soft laughter in his ear.

"Silly boy. The only way you can hurt me is when you make me believe you don't love me."

Draco snuggled tighter around Harry. "And you call _me_ silly. Of course I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

When Harry woke up he had no idea where he was. Then the previous day slowly came back to him – Draco's rejection, McGonagall's bombshell, he and Draco's make up on the South Tower, and then collapsing, physically and emotionally exhausted, after long discussions in the south tower room. Harry checked his watch – they still had time to sneak back to their respective dormitories before they were discovered missing. Although this was not unusual for Harry, he would gladly avoid having to sit through one of Hermione's lectures about wandering around after curfew, despite his Prefect status.

Harry roughly shook Draco awake, who was not pleased with his sleep being interrupted. As they both had a free period first, they agreed to talk to Dumbledore and McGonagall straight after breakfast. With a quick kiss they departed, dodging Filch as the sun began to rise in golden splendour.

Harry snuck back into his dormitory without discovery thanks to years of practice. Ten minutes later various alarms and spells went off, loud enough to wake the dead. Harry faked a just-woken yawn and stretch, before claiming the bathroom first. After a hot shower, Harry spent an inordinate amount of time trying to tame his hair, but gave up after a while, and joined Hermione, Ron and Neville as they went to breakfast. He attacked the breakfast with an unusually voracious appetite. His friends did not quite know what to do with this change, but decided not to question it. As he ate, he scanned the hall, ignoring the glares he received, looking for his lover.

He finally entered, looking as polished as ever, leading the Slytherin leaders to their assigned seats. Harry forced himself not to smile at the sight, forming his face into a hateful glare as he watched Draco ordering about his housemates. Draco finally met is eyes, returning the glare, his eyes full of love. Suddenly his eyes became unfocused, and Harry felt his own eyes lose focus. Chaos began to break out in the hall, as people began yelling and fighting.

"What's going on?" Harry asked Ron.

"Huh? Sorry, I was staring at Neville's dreamy eyes."

Ron suddenly clapped his hand to his mouth in horror. Before he could tease Ron, Dumbledore began to call for calm. The hall began to quieten down, until Dumbledore had everyone's complete attention.

"Do not be afraid, what you are experiencing are the effects of Veritaserum. Now, who opened a hole in the school's barrier?"

"Me."

The quiet admission came from a mousy-looking Ravenclaw whom Harry recognised as one of Terry Boots' mob of fans. Dumbledore stupefied her, before the other teachers left with her, the girl's body levitating between them. After the door closed behind them, an eerie silence hung heavy in the air as people feared what they would say.

As the students began to walk off to their various classes, the effects of the Veritaserum began to fade. Harry promised Hermione he was going to study and made his way to Dumbledore's office. Draco was already waiting in the corridor outside.

"You sure you want to do this?" Draco asked. "Once you make a decision there is no turning back."

"I know. I'm game if you are," he replied with a slight smile.

The password for the gargoyles hadn't changed, and soon they were tentatively knocking on Dumbledore's door. It was open and the walked in, suddenly nervous. Dumbledore smiled kindly at them, urging them to sit and offered them tea. Draco, however, was eager to cut to the chase.

"I am willing to fulfil my role in the prophecy."

Dumbledore nodded silently and turned to Harry.

"I am also willing to sacrifice my life if it will kill Voldemort. He has caused so much pain, I couldn't live with myself if I refused my chance to destroy him, and someone else suffered because of it."

Dumbledore nodded, but seemed wearied by the knowledge of their upcoming deaths. "You two boys are very brave. Don't forget that." Then Dumbledore smiled suddenly, "I have excused you two boys from class for today. I hope you make the most of it."

They thanked him and turned to leave. As he was about to walk through the door, Harry suddenly remembered something. "Professor, how did you know that Draco and I were in love?"

"Amethyst. Draco was right in being suspicious of telepathic creatures."

* * *

They agreed to meet up in the afternoon. Harry had walked off with a mysterious smile, promising to organise something special for the night. Draco grabbed his cloak and wandered off to Hogsmeade, planning a surprise of his own.

He walked into the elegant jewellery store. Jeffery, the owner, greeted him personally – his father was a big spender here, buying gifts for his mother after each argument.

"Is there anything in particular that you are looking for Master Malfoy?" Jeffery asked.

"No. I just want something for a special someone."

Rows and rows of glittering jewels, rings, necklaces, earrings and bracelets were brought out for his presentation. None of them seemed to suit Draco's purpose, and he was ready to give up when something caught his eye. After close examination and much discussion, Draco placed his order, walking back to the castle in a much happier mood.

* * *

They met up at the South Tower, as agreed. Harry was late and ran, panting, towards Draco. Draco looked on in amusement as his lover skidded to a halt in front of him, grinning sheepishly and running his hand through his hair in a way that Draco found irresistible.

"Follow me. There's something I want to show you," Harry commanded.

Draco was guided up a winding staircase to the stone battlements. Harry noted in amusement Draco's puzzled glance, before resting his hand on the edge of the tower roof, and hauling himself up. Draco followed, clambering over the aging red tiles, thankful that they supported his weight. Harry finally sat down near the top of the roof, urging Draco to sit beside him.

"What did you want to show me?" Draco asked curiously.

Harry said nothing, simply pointing out toward the sky. Draco watched in awe as the sky turned from resplendid gold and pink, to the calm, familiar dark velvety blue. They were silent, fearing that words would ruin this moment of shared wonder. Eventually, though, darkness descended, and Draco turned to Harry, who had planned the entire evening.

"What now, my love?"

Harry smiled over the endearment. "Follow me and you'll find out."

Intrigued, Draco obeyed, clambering over the roof tiles and down the stairs, watching Harry in awe. Harry seemed oblivious to the danger, confident in his easy grace. Harry directed them through a maze of corridors and secret passages to a large, unoccupied room.

"This is the old Head Boy room. It hasn't been used for years, and not even Filch patrols it. Just give me a minute to check that everything's ready."

Draco heard a knock on the door, and slipped inside. He looked around the room, noting the roaring fire, sumptuous bed and candles strewn throughout the room. Harry was standing in front of the fireplace, poking at a blazing log with a fire iron. He glanced at Draco with a half-smile, the golden-red light playing over his black hair and tanned face. "How do you feel?"

"A little hungry," Draco replied. His stomach grumbled, and he added self-consciously, "very hungry."

Smiling, Harry brushed a kiss on the tip of his nose. "I can do something about that." He turned Draco to face a table laden with trays and silver-domed platters. "The house-elves outdid themselves for us."

"Wow. This is incredible Harry. Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before. I don't know what to say."

Harry pulled out a chair for him, "Why don't you sit and eat? I chose the meals myself." Harry fiddled nervously with his sleeve at Draco's stunned silence, "I hope you like them."

"You chose the meals? How did you know what to ask for? I thought your relatives starved you."

Harry smiled wryly. "Close but not quite. When I lived with my relatives, from the age of ten, I was designated cook, so I became quite adept in the kitchen, and even developed a passion for cooking. Choosing the food for tonight was a lot of fun actually."

With that, Harry lifted the lids of the dishes, the delicious aromas sharpened Draco's voracious appetite. He began heaping servings of each delicacy on his plate, but noticed Harry was making no move to fill his own plate.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked as he spooned a serving of risotto onto his plate.

"No. You go ahead and eat. I'm quite content to watch you."

Draco's hands stilled. "You never eat Harry."

"I do," Harry replied indignantly. "But only when I'm hungry."

"You haven't had anything since breakfast. You need to eat."

"No I don't!" he yelled in reply, his volume escalating.

Instead of being intimidated by this show of anger, Draco leant calmly back in his chair. "Why don't you eat Harry?"

Such a simple question, and yet so difficult to answer. How could he explain the need to suffer, the obsession so strong that it controls his mind. And the emotions at the centre of it all, how could he explain them?

"Please Harry."

There was a long silence. "After the events of our fifth year, I felt so guilty. People I knew had suffered because of _me_, and I had been too weak to stop them. My godfather praised me for not risking my life heedlessly, but … I was alive, and uninjured, but I should have been dead. I should have been the one tortured. I was the one they were after, I was the reason they all suffered. But I was alive. I used to try to kill myself, to make amends, but I could never cut deep enough. After a while I decided that I wasn't worthy of death. It would be so peaceful, and I would see my parents again. I didn't deserve that. I deserved to suffer. Everyone, apart from my closest friends, shunned me, but that had so little effect, and did not begin to balance the suffering I'd caused. So I decided to deny myself everything that I could without killing myself. For the past year I've been depriving myself of food and sleep. I even wanted to quit the Quidditch team, but my team threatened to give my timetable to Colin Creevy." …. " I denied myself all the parties and games of my friends, instead studying obsessively so that one day I might be of use to the wizarding community. When I was with my relatives it was the best, they didn't like my new attitude, and tried to beat it out of me. They seemed so surprised that I didn't fight back, but I deserved the pain, I welcomed it. I don't deserve to eat such beautiful food. I don't want it," he protested as Draco spooned potato soufflé onto his plate.

"Please Harry, you need to eat. You already know that you're sacrificing yourself for the world. You've done your penance. You don't need to suffer anymore. You never needed to suffer in the first place."

"The wizarding community…"

"… are a collective bunch of fools," Draco interrupted. "Come on Harry, they're led by Fudge. Incompetence is their defining feature. They blame you because they're scared and they had hoped you could vanish Voldemort as easily as a Boggart. They forgot that you're a boy, not a superhero. Stop trying to measure yourself by impossible standards. You managed to stop the most evil wizard in the world when you were only a child. And you're ready to sacrifice everything now. Give yourself a break Harry."

"I'm not hungry," Harry declared stubbornly.

Draco sized Harry up with a glance and smirked. "Fine then, _I_ won't eat."

Draco's knife and fork cluttered loudly against his plate as the let them drop and simply stared at Harry. Harry was torn. To give himself such a decadent indulgence, even as a last meal, completely went against the strict lifestyle he had forced himself to lead. And yet … this was Draco' final evening alive. Didn't he deserve spoiling? Wasn't that why Harry went to the effort of organising all of this? And was he really asking so much? It was just a couple of bites after all. And he would be dead tomorrow anyway.

Harry silently picked up his cutlery and began eating, Draco following suit. Harry was aware, however, of Draco's eyes measuring every mouthful he ate. He couldn't fool him like he did Ron and Hermione.

* * *

They consumed the supper at a leisurely pace, and the fire on the grate burned to hot red coals. Draco added more logs to the fire and returned to the table, pulling Harry onto his lap as he sat down. Harry curled against his hard chest and darted his tongue out, quickly licking the whipped cream and chocolate that Draco proffered. Harry thought he heard Draco's throat working, but his voice was perfectly smooth when he asked seriously, "You know that I love you, don't you? This isn't a schoolboy crush to me. This is true, eternal love."

Harry tilted his head so that he was facing Draco. "Of course I know. I feel the same."

Draco pulled a small box from his pocket. He opened it and Harry was amazed by the sight of two platinum cladagh rings. "For as long as there is breath in my body, For eternity and back, You are the other half of my soul. I offer you my heart for your keeping, even into the realm of death. I am forever yours."

Harry recognised the words from his Wizarding Culture lessons as the strongest of wizarding marriage vows. They were rarely used as they bound the souls of the two participants, and Harry realised the significance of Draco's choice. "I accept your heart and offer mine in return for your keeping, even into the realm of death. You are the other half of my soul, and not even Death can part us. I am forever yours."

They each placed a ring on each other's finger, and kissed to seal the ritual. They could both feel the magic crackling around them as their souls joined. Golden sparks lit the air surrounding them as a crimson light enveloped them. It overwhelmed them for a moment, but then they noticed how their senses were heightened – every colour brighter, every whisper was as clear as a shout. Harry could hear another heartbeat echoing his own, felt the awe and wonder that was his but also Draco's. He felt completed.

"That was amazing," Draco breathed into his ear. The feeling of Draco's breath sent tingles down Harry's spine. Draco lightly stroked the side of his face and the warmth of it caused Harry to close his eyes.

"Harry, are you okay?"

Harry opened his eyes and smiled. Holding Draco's face in his hands, he brushed his lips against Draco's own. Harry suddenly felt breathless, and deepened the kiss, desire welling up inside of him. Finally they pulled apart, breathing heavily.

"Why did you stop?" Draco asked

"I'm going to make love to you by candlelight, and spend the night showing you how much I love you. And I wanted to give you the chance to say no before I lose control."

Draco smiled wickedly. "The Gryffindor Golden Boy lose control? I'm hard just thinking about it."

Harry desperately kissed Draco while unbuttoning his shirt. Draco, it seemed, was not so patient and simply ripped Harry's shirt open. The were forced to stop kissing to remove their shirts and pants, but were then able to press their naked bodies against each other as they kissed. Harry pushed Draco down onto the bed and crawled on top of him, sucking eagerly at Draco's neck as he moaned appreciatively.

"Honey all over," he breathed into Draco's ear. "That's what you taste like."

"All over? Are you sure?"

Harry grinned wickedly. "I'm willing to find out." And he proceeded to do just that.

* * *

_It's the last time that we'll have together_

_  
It's the only thing left in our lives_

_  
But as long as we still have each other_

_  
Let's spend the night_


End file.
